


Monsters

by RestARose13



Category: DA: O, Dragon Age, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: A little angst, F/M, Fluff, slight gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-10
Updated: 2015-05-10
Packaged: 2018-03-29 22:38:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3913261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RestARose13/pseuds/RestARose13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alistair contemplates the teachings of the Chantry regarding mages after the events at Kinloch Hold.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Monsters

In the Chantry, the Sisters always made sure you knew how bad mages were. They made sure you knew that you had to be on constant watch. One slip, one moment of negligence and the abominations and demons would be running around everywhere. Now, granted, Alistair had slept through most of those lessons so the finer details were a bit foggy, but the main point stuck. Mages: make bad stuff happen. Templars: make sure bad stuff doesn't happen. As a child he thought it was a bit of an exaggeration. The Sisters made you think that every mage is an abomination waiting to happen but he remembers thinking to himself that if that were true, there would be no mages. There would only be monsters and the Templars would have killed them all already.

Looking at the remains of the Circle Tower now, he could see what the Sisters had meant. 

To say that the lower levels of the Tower were not bad would only be because the upper levels were so much worse. Every step, every floor, was everything the Sisters and his trainers had warned him about. The first floors were littered with demons, undead, and abominations. As they made their way upward, the corruption infected the very tower itself. Sacks of flesh and rot stuck to the walls. The smell of decomposition permeated the air. Alistair had to stop himself several times from throwing up. Darkspawn smelled worse, definitely, but not by much.

Onward they went, though. Around the fleshy bits and demony things. Over the bodies of mages, innocent and possessed a like. Hindered slightly by a demon trapping them in the Fade but the Warden rescued them and was able to recover the Litany of Adralla. They stopped momentarily in front of a caged Templar and Alistair was struck with an unnerving thought.

_That could have been me._

Had Duncan not come, had he not joined the Grey Wardens, Alistair could have easily been one of the Templars in this tower. He could have been one of the ones killed during the initial attack. He could have been one of the ones hiding in the entrance of the tower, waiting for orders to march forth and slaughter everything within. He could have been the one in the cage, tortured and depraved to the point of almost losing his mind or perhaps even losing it completely.

He swallowed hard as he pushed the thoughts from his mind and continued to follow the Warden into the chamber to fight Uldred. If there was one benefit of his training, it was the ability to focus no matter what. Rather than be distracted by what could have been, he focused what was in front of him and that was the demon, Uldred. The demon tried to bargain, because of course it did. The Warden heard none of it. Without hesitation, she called the order to attack. The battle was a blur of magic and steel. He concentrated on dispelling what he could and stabbing what he could not. The almost Templar was only faintly aware of the Litany being recited by the Warden as she cast her own spells against the magical forces that opposed them.

In the end, they triumphed. Evil defeated, First Enchanter saved; all in a day's work. Without the hordes of enemies, going back down was much faster than going up, even with the First Enchanter having to be partially carried due to his traumas. Alistair felt himself relax a bit more when the leader of the mages agreed to honor their treaty to provide aid to the Grey Wardens, thus becoming their first allies. There was still more treaties and he hoped they would still go to Redcliffe to see Arl Eamon, especially after the rumors of his illness. For right now, however, they had achieved their first victory.

The First Enchanter and Knight-Commander had to discuss the specifics of the arrangement and the healer, Wynne, had decided to join them. Alistair smiled to himself when the elder mage had said she was to come along. She had this... motherly air to her. Not only that, she was a powerful mage in their own right and a skilled healer. The Warden had said that while she herself had studied healing, she was far more adept at setting things on fire. It would be good to have Wynne along. Besides, Alistair wanted her to check a cut he had gotten from a demon. The older initiates had told him about demon cooties and, while he was sure they weren't a real thing, he wanted her to look at it.

They had a moment to rest while Wynne gathered what she needed and the leaders of the circle talked. Though, perhaps 'talked' was a light term. Sternly discussed in hushed but raised voices. Yeah, that was more like it. Alistair leaned against one of the pillars lining the room, enjoying the moment of relative peace. He turned to ask the Warden about what they were doing for camp when he noticed she was not where she was a moment ago. She had been walking the room in a mindless wander sort of way and he had mostly left her to it, having sought his own place to relax. As he glanced around for her, he caught sight of her as she passed through the main doors back into the main halls of the tower.

He watched in confusion as the hallway began to conceal her. Why in the Maker's name would she want to go back in there? There was nothing there now but dead abominations and mages...

Alistair slapped himself, causing a few loitering Templars to glance in his direction. _Morrigan's not here so I'll call myself it in her stead. Idiot, idiot, idiot._

The Warden was a mage. She had come from here, lived here, spent most of her life here. She must have known the people within the tower. The entire time they moved from floor to floor. Every abomination they struck, every dead body they passed. They were all people she knew. She had never talked about her life in the tower, he had never really asked. She asked him about Duncan, the Wardens, would always check in with him to make sure he was doing well. The entire time going through the tower, she had never faltered. Never gave a moment's pause, but that did not mean that it's condition did not still affect her.

Silently berating himself, he pushed from his pillar and went after her. Maybe she wanted to be alone, but the least he could do was check on her. She has done the same for him, after all. He did not have to go far to find her. In the first room past the doors, she sat on the lower bunk of a bed, head in her hands. Her shoulders shook and he could hear her breath come in small gasps.

_She's crying,_ was Alistair's panicked realization, _Maker's breath, now what do I do?_

Stand there shuffling was his immediate answer. Alistair had never had to actually comfort someone before, least of all a crying woman. Should he leave? Give her some time? Stay? Sit with her, maybe? Before he could decide on a course of action, the Warden suddenly looked up on him, perhaps alerted by the slight clank of his armor.

"Alistair," her voice was quiet as she wiped away her tears, trying to hide the evidence, "Is, uh, is there something you need?"

Mentally chastising himself for being a coward on top of an idiot, Alistair finally moved to sit beside his companion.

"I was going to ask you the same."

"I'm fine."

"You should never try lying," Alistair joked, "You're terrible at it." That at least got her to smile and a small laugh.

"I... will be fine." She wrapped her arms around herself, rubbing her hands on her upper arms. "This was... too real, I suppose. When I left the tower, I never thought of returning. Never thought that it would become... this."

She shook her head as she stood, as though to force it from her mind. When she turned to look at him, she ran her hand along the wood of the bunk.

"This was my bed when I was an apprentice. From the time when I arrived at the circle to the day I finished my Harrowing. I never got to sleep in my new bed on the second floor. The day I became a full-fledged mage was the day I left to become a Grey Warden."

"Duncan wrote ahead, saying he had found a new mage recruit. I didn't realize it plucked your right out of your Harrowing." Alistair commented. She laughed lightly and shook her head in a sad way.

"There were some things that happened in between. I had a friend. Jowan. He came to me, wanting my help in getting his phylactery so as to run off with his initiate lover."

"Ooohh, scandalous." he joked but pursed his lips when he didn't get a reaction. Wrong thing to say then. Thankfully the awkward silence didn't last long as she continued her story.

"Jowan had learned he was going to be made tranquil. In desperation, they wanted to break his phylactery to escape. I was terrified. If we were caught, I could not be made tranquil since I passed my Harrowing, but I could still be executed, or worse, sent to Aeonar. So, I... betrayed him. I went to Irving, told him everything. He had me set them up. Both Jowan and Lily would be punished for their actions." She turned her back to him as she confessed her past. "'The Chantry would do the same to us,' Irving had said."

Alistair sat in silence as he listened. During their time traveling together, the Warden had been nothing if not selfless. She helped those she could and even did her best for those she could not. She listened to him, talked with Leliana, even somehow managed to get along with Morrigan, though Maker only knows how. So, needless to say, this was not what he had expected.

"What... happened?" He finally managed to ask, unsure of what to expect as an answer.

"We found his phylactery and when we made to leave, Irving and the Templars had us surrounded. Jowan tried to resist but when they tried to take Lily he... used blood magic."  
Despite the horrifying turn of events, Alistair felt a heave of relief.

"He was a blood mage! You did the right thing, then."

"It's easy to say that now. 'Jowan was a blood mage, so he was wrong and I was right by turning him in.' But, I didn't know that at the time I betrayed him. I was only thinking of saving myself."

Words were not Alistair's specialty. Jokes and quips, sure. But now, he wanted to tell her it was alright. To somehow comfort her as she had for him. She had done it so easily and now it was his turn to do the same for her and he was at a loss. He stood from his seat and went to the disheveled desks she was standing near. His presence seemed to encourage her to continue.

"When Duncan offered to let me join the Grey Wardens, I couldn't believe it. Wasn't sure I deserved it. Irving said it was a reward for loyalty but I couldn't help but wonder what I had been loyal to. To the Circle? To the Chantry? To myself? I went with Duncan because I couldn't be in the tower any more. How could I look at it and not be reminded of what I had done? Of the friend I had betrayed and his lover that I helped doom. At first, I never wanted to return because of the memories it would surface. But, the longer I was away, the more I realized... this... everything. It was all wrong."

"What do you mean?"

"Myself, Jowan, this. It was all the product of our imprisonment. Of the Chantry's fear of magic."

"You heard the mages. This was because of Loghain. He offered the mages a deal if they sided with him." The warden shook her head at him, looking him in the eye.  
"And they never would of felt compelled to agree if not for the Chantry's restrictions. They saw this," she waved around the room, to the destruction and death that was in very corner, "preferable to living under the Templar's thumb! Everyone sees us as nothing more than monsters waiting to happen and now these..." she pinched the bridge of her nose, calming herself before continuing, "These mages have proven them right."

Alistair wanted to tell her she was wrong. People don't see you that way. They don't see the staff and robes first. They don't see you as a monster. Memories of his training told him he was wrong. That was all the Chantry taught. Magic is meant to serve man and they are best served by locking away all the mages. And, really, was he any different? Would he have given the mages the same chance she had, had he been in her position? Or would his training dictate that the mages within had to be killed, regardless of innocence, because that was what the Chantry taught. He could not tell her that the world did not see her as a monster, but he could do what he hoped was the next best thing.

"I don't see you that way."

She looked at him, a sad smile on her features. When she raised her hand and touched his cheek, he met her gaze and for the first time, really looked at her. She was a mage, yes, but he knew her. Regardless of what she said of her past, he knew that she was good person. He focused on that. Focused on what he had seen her accomplish in their time together and not on what the chantry had taught. He focused on the warmth of her hand and how smooth it felt against his rough stubble. He focused on her. On the way her eyes met his; there was sadness there now, but he had seen them shine with laughter. He looked at the way her hair fell across her face and resisted the urge to brush it aside. She was a mage, but she was still a human. She was not the monster the Chantry wanted him to see.

"Thank you, Alistair." She reached up and kissed the cheek what wasn't occupied by her hand. Luckily, she headed out of the room so she never saw the bright red that consumed his face. When her footsteps faded, Alistair nervously ran his hand through his hair and waited for his heart to stop trying to escape his chest.

The Chantry wanted him to see mages as nothing but monsters. When Alistair left the room to rejoin the group in the main hall, he knew for certain that was not true. Mages were just as much human as anyone else. They hoped and feared; loved and lost. What he experienced in the tower that day was no different than what occurred at Ostagar. It was not mages that caused the king's death and the field of slaughter. It was a man, a singular, cowardly man. Just as there were good people, desperate people, questionable ones, people from all walks of life, mages were no different. Alistair smiled to himself as he left the room to join the group. He was glad he was traveling with one of the good ones and looked forward to learning other ways the Chantry was wrong about mages.


End file.
